


love’s recovery

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Light D/s, Multi, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, minor Bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-04
Updated: 2005-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Angelina dumps Fred. George and Hermione make him feel better.





	love’s recovery

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for the ride my broomstick challenge 2005.

“Look at her,” I muse out loud. “She’s so _graceful_.”

My brother takes his tongue out of Hermione’s throat long enough to scoff at me. “ _Graceful_? You’re kidding, right? There’s nothing graceful about zooming straight into people to steal the Quaffle. That girlfriend of yours does more damage than the Beaters, mate.”

“You have no idea,” I say, smiling at the memory of the last time Angelina and I had some time alone.

“Now this one,” George continues, gazing adoringly into Hermione’s eyes. “She is nothing but graceful.”

Hermione giggles appreciatively and returns to her previous task of checking my brother’s mouth for cavities or possibly tonsillitis.

“Yes, because snogging at a Quidditch match is very graceful.”

They don’t answer me, which I figure is just as well. I concentrate on watching Angelina soar through the sky, the Quaffle tucked under her arm, her braids flying behind her as her dark chocolate form scores yet another goal for the Harpies.

“Fred, you’re drooling.”

I wipe my mouth. “Do you blame me? I haven’t seen her in months.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Hermione sighs.

“What do you know?” I say bitterly, leaning over George to glare at her. “You and George are never apart for longer than a day or so.”

George pushes me away before I can get into yet another argument with his girlfriend. “Quidditch season is almost over, Fred. You’ll have, what, four months together before she has to go back for training?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “It’s just really hard, being away from her for this long. It’s the longest we’ve been apart since we started dating.”

George claps his hand on my shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll make it. You guys are going to go the distance, just like me and ‘Mione here.”

It should bother me that he resumes kissing Hermione while still gripping my shoulder, but it doesn’t.

~*~*~*~

“Show me how much you miss me.”

I gulp in nervous anticipation as Angelina shoves me against the wall underneath the bleachers, pinning both of my wrists behind my back with a spell. Her soft lips are all over my neck, nibbling and sucking lightly but intently, and her free hand is forcefully kneading the flesh of my arse.

“I – uh… how shall I do that without my hands?”

Angelina pulls back just far enough to glare at me before molesting my ear with her tongue. “You have a mouth, don’t you? And has it been so long that you’ve forgotten how to address me?”

Cringing at my forgetfulness (and secretly hoping she would punish me for it), I drop to my knees and began to nudge my head under her skirt.

“My apologies, _Mistress_.”

I feel both of her hands twist in my hair as I flick out my tongue and begin to lick at the beautiful pink bud in front of my face. Of course she isn’t wearing any knickers; she never does when she knows she will be seeing me. She’s incredibly wet, and I suck her juices into my mouth as I run my tongue up and down between her folds and around her clit.

“Mmm, good boy,” she moans from above me, angling one leg over my shoulder while holding onto my head for balance. “Oh, _Fred_ … fuck, how I’ve missed this.”

I groan into her heat when she says my name, the entire syllable going straight to the aching stiffness confined within my trousers. She pushes me closer to her, nearly burying my face into her sweet pussy as she bucks her hips wildly to thrust against my mouth. I quicken my pace, pressing the tip of my tongue underneath her clit and licking upwards, and it isn’t long before she’s nearly ripping my hair out of my head as she comes on my chin. I just know she’s biting her lip to keep from screaming.

I’m right. When she steps back and allows me to look up at her, there’s a small spot of blood on her swollen bottom lip. Her face flushed, which is quite a feat for a woman of color, she leans down to kiss me and I immediately lick her lip to mix her blood with the other taste of her I already have on my tongue.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, she lifts the binding spell on my wrists and straddles my lap. “I want you to fuck me into the wall, Fred.”

Far be it for me to deny the woman of my dreams whatever she wants. I carefully get to my feet, lifting her with me and holding her up against the wall. It’s quite difficult to keep her balanced as I lower my trousers and finally free my erection, but once I’m inside her it’s all worth it. She holds onto my shoulders and bounces up and down as I thrust into her from below, both of us gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths. I grip the strong muscles on the backs of her thighs for a better angle and literally fuck her into the wall, per her request, slamming my cock deep into her tight wetness as I swallow her cries of pleasure.

It’s going to be over too soon, and I know it. With a final grunt, I sink my teeth into her shoulder to muffle my screams as I go over the edge. I collapse against her, losing my hold on her as we both slide down to the ground.

“Fuck, Fred,” pants Angelina, leaning her forehead against mine. “That was brilliant. What a perfect way to say goodbye.”

“God, yes… wait, what?” I lift my head to look at her.

She smiles warmly, cupping my face with her hands. “There’s no way we can continue being together now that I’m playing professional Quidditch, don’t you know that? I’ve missed you like mad and I can’t honestly justify being in a relationship when I only see you a few months out of the year.”

I nod, knowing better than to argue with her.

“Believe me when I say there’s no one else,” she continues. “Between training and playing, I wouldn’t have had time to cheat on you even if I wanted to.”

“I know,” I say tonelessly.

Her expression turns sympathetic as she kisses me one more time and straightens up. “Good-bye, Fred.”

I watch her walk away, still kneeling on the floor with my trousers around my thighs, savoring the sight of her beautiful arse one last time. It’s for the best, really it is; I’ve been driving myself crazy wanting and waiting for so long. But it still hurts. She was my first love, my first everything. And now she’s the first one to break my heart.

~*~*~*~

One would think that two twenty-one-year-old entrepreneurs wouldn’t continue to live together after so many years, but George and I have never really given it a second thought. When we first bought the property, we both assumed that we would be sharing the two-bedroom flat above the store. It wasn’t until Hermione questioned this the other day that the fact even entered our minds.

“We’re twins,” we both answered at the same time, as though on cue.

“Parvati and Padma are twins and they don’t live together,” she argued.

“Padma got married,” I pointed out.

“So if one of you got married you’d move out and leave the other here by himself.” Hermione’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“No,” said George promptly. “We’re getting married at the same time.”

“Yeah,” I added. “A double wedding.”

We had never discussed that before either, and we haven’t discussed it since. I don’t even know why I’m remembering this particular conversation as I sit in my room, staring at the wall – coincidentally the one that adjoins George’s room – and trying not to listen to the loud howls of passion coming from the other side.

I wonder if George is ready to marry Hermione. She’s only nineteen, but they’ve been together for over a year. Then again, I was with Angelina for four years and neither one of us ever brought up the subject – or should I say _she_ never brought up the subject. I would have married her after the Yule Ball in sixth year if she’d have let me. Four years is quite a long time to be in a relationship with somebody and not move to that next level; that’s probably why she broke up with me.

 _Stop beating yourself up, Fred_ , says the voice inside my head. Strangely enough, but somehow appropriate, my conscience sounds just like George. This is ironic because I haven’t even told George yet; he was already ‘busy’ when I finally arrived home after walking around Hogsmeade for awhile after the incident under the bleachers.

I think back to what Angelina said about not having time to cheat on me even if she wanted to. She didn’t have time for _me_ either, so perhaps she just didn’t want to settle down? She’s only twenty, and while most of the population of the wizarding world jumped into the marriage pool before, during, and immediately following the war, she kept her head and her priorities straight. She fought in the war, trained for Quidditch, fucked me, and that was about it. Angelina is definitely a woman who lives for the present.

The sounds on the other side of the wall die down and I wonder if it’s a good time to go talk to George. He’s like me in that we’re completely wide-awake after sex; as opposed to falling asleep like most guys, we’re the ones who bounce off of the walls and do something energetic like clean the house or go for a run.

It doesn’t surprise me when George’s head pokes in my door, without knocking even. I take in his flushed face and wild hair and can’t help but laugh at him. “Wear her out yet?” I ask jokingly.

“Yup,” he says proudly, stepping into my room and not bothering to tighten his robes around his boxer-clad body. “She’s sleeping like a baby.”

“Way to go,” I say, noticing my voice has lost its enthusiasm.

George notices too and raises his eyebrow. “She dumped you, didn’t she.”

It was a statement, not a question, which was per usual for us. I nod slowly and within seconds George’s arms are around me, cradling my head as I bury it into his shoulder.

“You can cry, man. It’s okay,” he tells me in a whisper. “You two were together for a long time; that has to hurt.”

It does hurt, but I don’t want to cry. Not because I’m a guy and guys don’t cry; I really don’t have the urge. I feel a lot better simply being held by my brother and knowing that if I did want to cry, it would be all right. Instead, I tell him what happened under the bleachers. I’m actually talking into his shoulder, but he understands it all the same. Surprisingly, my voice doesn’t sound choked or anything.

“You’re taking this rather well,” he notes, echoing my thoughts. “Perhaps it was already over then?”

“Perhaps,” I agree, pulling out of his embrace just enough to meet his eyes. It’s like looking into a mirror, almost, and seeing him smile makes me want to smile too. People always wonder why we’re so upbeat and cheery all of the time, when all we have to do is look at the other anytime we’re upset and instantly take on the better mood. It’s a twin thing, I guess.

“Do you remember when we told Hermione that we’d get married at the same time?” I blurt out suddenly.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Don’t worry, ‘Mione’s nowhere near ready to get married yet. She has a whole list of things to do, goals to accomplish, before she ‘settles down and starts a family’.” He’s using finger-quotes, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” I say through my chuckles.

“Yeah, so I think you have another five years or so to find a bride.”

I flop unceremoniously onto my bed and sigh. “What if I don’t find one?”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Fred.” I feel the bed dip and turn my head to meet his eyes again. “You can always live with ‘Mione and me. You can be ‘the guy on the couch’.”

This cracks me up and I smack him with my pillow, almost knocking him off of my bed. “I want my own room, dammit,” I argue playfully. “Preferably a _soundproof_ one, so I’m not forced to listen to the two of you moaning like a couple of Muggle porn stars.”

George glares at me from behind the pillow, looking highly offended. “I do not _moan like a porn star_ ,” he declares. “I grunt like a caveman.”

I’m laughing hysterically now, trying to grab the pillow from him to hit him again. In the midst of the tug-of-war, it dawns on me that I have another pillow and I instantly grab for it and catch him off-guard.

We haven’t had a pillow fight in years; since Hogwarts, I’d reckon. With running a store and spending time with girlfriends and family, we didn’t have time for that sort of thing anymore. Feathers fly around my room as my twin and I attempt to beat the shit out of each other with my pillows, both of us knowing the unspoken rule that the winner is the one who holds onto his pillow the longest.

When George’s featherless pillow sails across the room, I cheer triumphantly and continue to pound him with my pillow until he’s begging for mercy through his bouts of laughter. I toss my pillow aside in favor of pinning him to the bed, grasping both of his wrists above his head with one hand while the other executes a full-fledged tickle attack anywhere I can reach.

His face is as red as his hair now, and let it be known that George Weasley does in fact giggle like a schoolgirl while being tickled. He’s trying to fight me, but I’ve always been the stronger one and had previous thought to place my knees on his thighs to keep him from kicking me away.

“Okay, you win, you win!” he gasps, giggling uncontrollably and squirming underneath me much like a fish.

I grin and release his wrists, pushing my hand into the mattress to give me momentum to roll off of him. I lean down at a bad angle, though, and instead collapse directly on top of him with a surprised ‘oof’.

“Ow, I think I sprained my wrist,” I whine, flexing it with a wince.

“You’re such a baby,” he says, his mouth close enough to my ear that the heat of his breath makes me shiver.

I try to get up again, but to no avail. I’m about to ask George to push me off when I feel something wet and hot probing the shell of my ear.

“George,” I gasp, much more quietly than I should have. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, speaking directly into my ear in nothing more than a whisper.

I don’t say anything – what am I supposed to say to that? – and he takes my silence as a cue to continue. His tongue outlines the entire shell of my ear before landing on that small flap that covers the eardrum, and I shiver again.

“You like it.”

Again, a statement, not a question. I don’t even try to protest, but I don’t encourage him either. Unless my hardening prick is a source of encouragement, which I suppose it is.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I shake my head forcefully, smacking him in the face with my hair. I realize I’m not speaking because I don’t trust my voice.

His tongue returns to my ear, and I bite my lip to keep from groaning. I know this is my brother and it’s wrong, but dammit it feels good and besides, he started it. Yes, that will be my defense: he started it.

I feel his lips on my earlobe, sucking it into his mouth as his hands roam down my back to my waist. He pushes up my shirt and touches my skin directly, massaging my back muscles with his strong hands as he launches an oral assault on my ear.

“Mmm,” I say quietly, instantly berating myself for losing control of my voice. I don’t know why I’m holding myself back, but then again I don’t know much of anything right about now.

His lips descend down my hairline to the back of my neck, planting soft but intense kisses that make me shiver even more. He tightens his hold on me as he moves back towards the front, kissing all over my throat and jaw line and nuzzling his face between mine and his shoulder in an attempt to access more.

“Turn your head,” he whispers.

It’s funny how my conscience should be yelling at me right now, because if I comply he’ll kiss me on the mouth and everything will change between us and it’s so _wrong_ … but I’m not exactly thinking clearly and besides, George _is_ my conscience.

I turn my head, seeing him directly in front of my face despite my closed eyelids. His lips are on mine immediately, tentatively at first as though he thought I would pull away. I don’t; I couldn’t even if i wanted to. I’m rooted to this spot, on top of my brother, until I regain control of the nerves in my body that aren’t in my neck and face.

His lips are rough, slightly chapped, yet they fit perfectly against mine. One of his hands disappears from under my shirt and cradles the back of my head, tilting it slightly to alter the angle of our kiss. I don’t even realize my mouth has parted slightly until I feel the tip of his tongue on the inside of my bottom lip as though requesting entry. At this point there is no doubt in my mind but to grant it, slightly lifting my own tongue to touch his and involuntarily groaning at the contact. His hand tightens in my hair as we deepen the kiss, everything else swimming out of my brain except for George and his hot mouth against mine and our tongues slowly exploring each other.

I don’t hear the squeak, but I do feel George abruptly break the kiss and lift my eyelids just enough to see him staring wide-eyed at the door, his kiss-swollen lips forming a shocked ‘O’.

Straining my neck to follow his gaze, I see Hermione standing in the doorway with an indescribable expression on her face, clutching her robe with both hands.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she says, her voice dripping with everything _but_ sarcasm.

“‘Mione, honey, I can explain -” George starts, motioning to push me off of him.

“I said ‘don’t stop’,” she repeats. “Please don’t stop.”

I turn back to George and he’s looking up at me, silently asking permission for… what, I don’t know. And I really don’t care, nor do I stop to think about it before lowering my entire body onto his, straddling his waist and kissing him again. I know he can feel my hardness because I can feel his, and this time our tongues touch right away and I forget Hermione is even in the room until the mattress dips under her weight.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she says, crawling closer to where my twin and I are melting together as one. “Have you done this before?”

I can tell he wants to answer her, so I abandon his mouth in favor of kissing his jaw line and throat much like he had done to me earlier.

“No, never.” His voice is thick and husky, and I’m sure he’s fighting to focus clearly on her because I know I couldn’t see through the haze that is clouding my vision right now. “Wanted to forever, though.”

I groan my agreement and nibble on the dip of his neck, smiling somewhat proudly against his skin when he arches his back and moans softly. I blindly raise my hand up the mattress until it finds his, intertwining our fingers together and rubbing his knuckle with my thumb.

“Beautiful,” Hermione says again. “Fucking beautiful.”

I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard her swear, and it’s obviously turning George on even more because now he’s as hard as a rock below me. I give an experimental push against him, and his tosses his head back against the mattress and grips my arse with his free hand to make me do it again.

“Do you mind if I watch?”

Now, I’ve known Hermione Granger for a long time, and I have never – _ever_ – heard her sound as serious about anything as she did right now. I raise my eyes and see her, albeit a bit blurry, biting her lip nervously as though she honestly thought we’d kick her out of the room.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” I whisper into George’s ear, realizing this is the first time I’ve actually spoken since this entire _thing_ began. I also find myself wondering exactly how far we’re going to go, but somehow that thought doesn’t weigh very importantly on my mind.

“That depends,” George says to Hermione. “Are you sure you just want to _watch_?”

I lift my head in surprise, glancing between my twin and his girlfriend. George has a rather devious grin on his face, and the corner of Hermione’s lips slowly curve upwards until their expressions match.

“What about Angelina?” she asks wryly, as though the answer doesn’t matter one bit.

“She’s no longer in the picture,” George replies, his eyes locked with Hermione’s while his fingers lock with mine.

“For shame,” says Hermione, moving closer, her robe draped open to reveal a rather naughty negligee. She doesn’t rush to cover herself, smirking when she sees my gaze drop. “Like what you see, Fred?”

I nod mutely, hoping my brother isn’t about to pound me into the ground for ogling his girlfriend. Given the atmosphere so far, though, I highly doubt that the thought has crossed his mind.

His next words confirm my previous statement and cause any uncertainties to fly out of my head. “Go on, Fred, touch her.”

I start to lift off of George, but she holds up her hand, halting my actions. “Let me come over there,” she says. “That way you can touch us both at the same time.”

My brother has the smartest girlfriend in the world. She closed the gap between us and snuggled up to George, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before looking at me expectantly. I hesitate, and she smiles warmly as she gently grabs my hand and places it on her breast.

George tightens his grip on my arse as he bucks against me, grinding our erections together through our clothes. My fingers trail lightly across Hermione’s breast, teasingly avoiding her nipple, and her gasps send a tingle though my body.

Hermione’s hands snake their way between George and my bodies, and it’s like she’s reading my mind as she makes quick work of my trousers and pushes them down my legs. I kick them off as George lifts my shirt over my head, leaving us both only wearing boxers and Hermione in her negligee.

George kisses me again, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he guides me to thrust our lower bodies together, and I don’t even realize I’ve lowered my hand between Hermione’s thighs until I hear her moaning. I rub her through the damp fabric and feel her hot breath on my face, losing my mind to the acquiescence that I’m kissing my twin brother and diddling his girlfriend at the same time.

I feel Hermione’s small hands on me again, this time to lower our boxers and stroke our erections together flesh-to-flesh. A wave of pleasure washes over me and I moan into George’s mouth, bucking my hips against him while Hermione uses both of her hands to smear our combined precome over both of our cocks. I reward her by sneaking two fingers underneath the crotch of her knickers, and plunge them into her wetness, inwardly smirking when she moans again and thrusts against my fingers for more.

Hermione’s thumb presses into the slit of my cock, and it’s all I can do not to come right then. She must have done the same thing to George, because he immediately tears his mouth away from mine and gasps, “Stop, ‘Mione. I don’t want to come yet.”

I quicken my fingers inside her and she loosens her grip on our cocks, instead grasping onto my arm and sinking her teeth into my shoulder.

“She’s a biter, that one,” George says needlessly, smiling up at me through the sweaty fringe of hair that had plastered to his forehead.

I kiss the corner of his mouth and drift down to speak directly into his ear. “How do you want to come then?”

He answers me by pulling my fingers out of Hermione and placing them between his legs. She whimpers until she realizes what we’re doing and replaces my fingers with her own.

“Be careful, Fred,” she said huskily, nuzzling her face into my shoulder as she touches herself. “It’s been awhile since I touched him like that; he might be a little tight.”

I have no idea what I’m doing, but the fact that Hermione has played with my brother’s arse turns me on immensely. I rub the underside of his balls with my thumb as I circle his entrance with a Hermione-coated finger, and I feel his entire body almost jump off of the mattress.

“Please, Fred,” he says, and there’s the whole feeling I get when my name is spoken again. I lean my forehead against his as I press my finger through the tight ring of muscles and push my cock against his. His mouth latches onto my neck – apparently Hermione isn’t the only biter – and I feel him grunt against my skin as I insert a second finger and wiggle them around experimentally. I brush against a spongy spot inside that makes him jump again, and I try to keep hitting it as I thrust against him.

I feel his shoulder move and tilt my head to see his hand between Hermione’s thighs, fingers pumping in and out of her while she traces circles on her clit. She leans up to bite me again, and the whole combination of both of them biting me and George’s arse tight around my fingers and our cocks sliding together and our hands squeezing each other push me to the brink of orgasm.

I always thought that two people coming together is something that only happens in romance novels and Muggle movies, but apparently I’m wrong. All three of us moan in perfect harmony as my cock explodes between us and mixes with George’s eruption, Hermione’s body spasming beside us signaling her release.

George lifts his arm to wrap around her as I do the same, and we lay in a sticky pile of sweaty limbs and breathless pants for air until George finally speaks.

“I love you both,” he says, pausing to give Hermione and me each a kiss on the lips and lingering to meet my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to come around forever. I want to be with both of you, together, just like this.”

Hermione’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “I have no problem with this arrangement.”

“Didn’t think you would,” George chuckles. “I’m sure you’ve always wanted a pair of twins for your very own.”

She grins wickedly and looks up at me. “What do you say, Fred? Will you be our boyfriend?”

I tighten my embrace on both of them and feel a smile creep onto my face. “Of course.”

I have no idea how this is going to work, but right now I really don’t care. As I drift off to sleep in the arms of my new lovers, my last conscious thought is that I should owl Angelina in the morning and thank her.


End file.
